


The Mark

by bluesailor



Series: Nightmares [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s10e17 Inside Man, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5260040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesailor/pseuds/bluesailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the beginning of Inside Man. Sam wakes up to Dean calling his name. (Reposted—originally chapter 2 of Nightmares/The Knight.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark

**Author's Note:**

> So, I totally wasn’t planning on writing a second part to this story, but then Inside Man aired, and I still haven’t stopped screaming over how similar the first scene was to what I had written. And of course, after seeing that, I couldn’t *not* write this. Many thanks to the lovely RiverSongTam for her help on this chapter!

The sound of his name drags Sam out of a deep sleep and back to partial consciousness. He squints blearily at the door, expecting to see Dean hovering there, ready with some excuse about not being able to sleep and wanting to check on him. But then he hears his name again—a shout, long and anguished, echoing down the hallway—and jolts fully awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time Dean has started screaming in his sleep, but Sam’s heart is pounding as he swings his feet onto the floor. He knows the bunker is secure, that it’s probably just a nightmare, but all the same, Dean sounds like he’s really in trouble. Another shout rings through the bunker, and Sam grabs his gun from his bedside table, flicking off the safety and holding it in front of him as he starts down the hallway, scanning for any potential danger.

Dean’s voice grows louder as Sam approaches his bedroom. Without pausing to listen, Sam flings the door open, gun at the ready. Light from the hallway filters over the bed, glistening on sweaty skin—Dean, thrashing under his blanket, moaning and clenching his teeth. Definitely a nightmare. Sam checks the rest of the room anyway before lowering his gun and looking back at Dean.

Until recently, Sam would have stood, quiet and uncertain, by Dean’s bed, watching over him until the nightmare ended, and then going back to his own room without waking him. Dean had never mentioned the nightmares by the light of day, and Sam, following his lead, hadn’t mentioned them either— Dean’s  _or_  his own. But, of course, neither of them could ever keep anything hidden from the other for long, and trying hadn’t done much good anyway. Watching his brother in the throes of yet another nightmare, Sam decides that as of tonight, he’s done following Dean’s lead.

Dean has stopped making noise, but he’s still moving fitfully. With a vague feeling of relief, Sam reaches out and gives his shoulder a firm shake.

“Dean.  _Dean._  Wake up.”

It takes several seconds’ more shaking, but Dean’s eyes finally blink open and he sits up with a gasp, his hand sliding under his pillow to clench around whatever weapon he has stashed there.

“Hey,” Sam whispers to him, “you with me? It was just a nightmare.”

Dean looks at him, but doesn’t say anything. He withdraws his hand from beneath the pillow and brings it up instead to rub at his ears, as though trying to block out an annoying sound.

“Dean. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, sounding almost surprised. He rubs at his ears again. Sam listens for a moment, but doesn’t hear anything.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says again. He gives his head a little shake. “Bad dream.”

“I gathered,” Sam says drily. He knows he shouldn’t push it, but Dean’s screams of his name are still echoing in his head, and he can’t help asking, “You want to tell me what it was about?”

Dean’s quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “Doesn’t matter. It’s never going to happen.”

Sam knows from his tone that’s all he’s going to say on the subject. He sighs, gets to his feet, crosses the room, and shuts the door, throwing them into nearly complete darkness. He feels his way back over to the bed and sets his gun on the nightstand, making sure the safety is back on.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks as he climbs into the bed.

“What do you think?”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“Yes, I do. It’s the only way either of us is getting any more sleep tonight, and you know it.”

Dean huffs at that, but apparently can’t think of an argument against it, because he offers no further protest as Sam pulls the covers over himself.

“At least don’t steal all the blankets,” he grumbles, yanking them back over to his side.

“Hey!  _You’re_  the one stealing the blankets,” Sam objects, yanking back. 

“They’re  _my_  blankets.”

Sam rolls his eyes and tugs enough blanket away from Dean to cover his feet. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

“What’s the point of even having my own room?” Dean mutters, but there’s no real venom behind it. Sam grins, presses up against him, and grins even wider when Dean presses right back.

The only other disturbance that night is a renewed tug-of-war over the blanket.


End file.
